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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792025">forever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/w0ndrlnd/pseuds/w0ndrlnd'>w0ndrlnd</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Drinking &amp; Talking, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, I am projecting because Uni was hard, Implied Sexual Content, KiyoKoYachi best friends agenda, Kiyoomi Protection Squad, Minor sunakomo, Minor tanakiyo, No Beta, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, Protective Komori Motoya, Some canon compliance, University Stress and Shenanigans, i am yachi, this is a powerful friendship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:32:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,879</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/w0ndrlnd/pseuds/w0ndrlnd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Kiyoomi is there for his friends and 1 time they are there for him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is inspired by <a href="https://twitter.com/mucynt">Lucia's</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/mucynt/status/1365744373007323139">twitter</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/mucynt/status/1365801180702588929">threads</a> about KiyoKoYachi - I could NOT get it out of my head for days and needed to write about it. </p><p>This is my first ff? I write general YA/NA fiction so apologies if the characters are a little ooc.</p><p>Also kindly let me know if I forgot any important tags/cw! Thank you x</p><p>// 11 March 2021, made some minor edits</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I.</p><p>People were shocked when they found out that Motoya and Kiyoomi were cousins. Motoya’s straight, chestnut hair was a massive contrast to Kiyoomi’s curly black locks, his brows thick and short compared to Kiyoomi’s meticulous arches. Then there was the fact that Motoya was infamous on Itachiyama grounds for getting into trouble with his smart mouth and natural inclination towards rule-breaking, while Kiyoomi sat back and pretended what everyone thought: There was now way Komori Motoya and Sakusa Kiyoomi were related. </p><p>Except for when he had no choice but to bust his cousin out of trouble, which happened more often than he would like to admit. </p><p>Kiyoomi sat in the silence of his shared dorm room, legs crossed as he stared at the phone in his hand. It began to vibrate, and while the number was not saved as a contact, Kiyoomi knew better than anyone at this point who could be calling.</p><p>  He waited three seconds before picking up, clearing his throat and dropping his voice two octaves lower before speaking. “Hello?”</p><p>“Ah, Komori-san. This is Fujioka-san at Itachiyama Institute. I’m sorry to be calling you so late.”</p><p>“Hm,” Kiyoomi responded. “It’s fine. What is the problem?” <em> This time </em>, he failed to add. Kiyoomi fell backwards on his bed, clean sheets filling his senses as he closed his eyes and wondered how and why he always found himself in these predicaments. </p><p>“Yes, well, Motoya-kun seemed to find his way off campus after hours,” Fujioka-san replied gruffly. Kiyoomi could tell he was trying his hardest not to display his frustrations, but he could already see their principal’s face scrunched up in annoyance as he glared angrily at Motoya sitting sheepishly in his usual chair. </p><p>Kiyoomi glanced at the clock. It was almost 9:30 in the evening. “Was he sleeping?”</p><p>“I - I’m sorry?” </p><p>“Was he sleeping?”</p><p>“I - um,” Fujioka-san stuttered. There was rustling on the other end. “I’m not… I’m not quite sure.” He certainly didn’t seem sure, and that meant Kiyoomi was on the right track.</p><p>“My son has a sleepwalking problem.” </p><p>Another rustle, this time of paper. “That was not recorded on his last physical.”</p><p>“I did not think it was important,” Kiyoomi responded brusquely. “Do you think it is important? Should it be on his record?”</p><p>“Uh, well, I mean -” Fujioka-san stuttered yet again. Kiyoomi let out a dramatic sigh, partly to continue his facade and partly because he was completely over this conversation. He had a literature test to study for. “If we believe it is for the safety of our students. We would not want him to harm himself or… or others if he were merely sleepwalking.”</p><p>“Very well, I will contact his physician. Anything else?” </p><p>“Oh. No, Komori-san. Again, my most genuine apologies for calling so late.”</p><p>Kiyoomi hung up the phone without another word, letting his eyelids fall as he felt the tension escape his shoulders.  He didn’t know how he ever ended up agreeing to pretend to be his uncle in order to get Motoya out of trouble. The whole ordeal had kept him wound up for minutes. </p><p>As soon as Motoya walked back into the room, almost at 10 in the evening, Kiyoomi sent daggers at him until his cousin was settled into bed as if the past hour had not happened. Motoya was finally laying in bed with his hands behind his head before turning to Kiyoomi with his signature smirk playing on his lips. </p><p>“Thanks for the Get Out of Jail Free card, Otou-san.” Motoya snickered, throwing his head back. “Sleepwalking. That’s new.” </p><p>Kiyoomi chucked a pillow at him. “You’re a shit, Motoya. What happened?”</p><p>“Nothing,” he replied, kicking his legs up into the air.  Of course, not when his dad was donating thousands of yen to the school. “Said I should be more careful and to get my sleepwalking in check. I told him I was just stressed,” Motoya shrugged. </p><p>Kiyoomi stood up and turned off their dorm lights. “I’m never doing that ever again.”</p><p>It happened two more times. </p><p> </p><p>II.</p><p>The first time Kiyoomi met Kiyoko, it was in the back of their business statistics class in university. It had been a required class for Kiyoomi, but merely an elective for Kiyoko. Their professor had assigned them a group project with the freedom to choose their own partners.</p><p>It wasn’t until the second week of classes that he even noticed Kiyoko. She was quiet and kept to herself, listening intently to the professor but occasionally doodling on the margins of her notebooks. She laughed at the professor’s dumb jokes, and she seemed friendly enough but even outside of class, Kiyoomi never saw her walking with anyone else. </p><p>Kiyoomi himself didn’t speak very often in class except when spoken to, and he was sure he projected the same aura; Motoya had been telling him since middle school that he needed to smile more or at least wear his mask less -- anything to make him look less <em> distant </em>. But Kiyoomi didn’t mind being distant; he didn’t mind not wasting his time with those he didn’t think deserved it. </p><p>It was no surprise when they became the last two individuals without partners. She had approached him first, that gentle grin on her lips as she tapped his desk with her pencil.”Do you want to be partners?”</p><p>At first, it had been awkward. They both tried to make small talk, but it was clear that they were both notoriously awful at it. So they stopped making small talk, until one day she received a text that sent a rare but genuine smile to her face. When Kiyoko looked up, she noticed Kiyoomi looking at her.</p><p>“My old volleyball teammates were home this weekend and sent me a picture of our now-third years,” she explained, placing her phone in front of Kiyoomi at a safe distance where it wasn’t too close to his face nor too far for him to see. </p><p>There were four teenage boys crouching in their black and orange volleyball uniforms, a tiny blond girl in the center. <em> Karasuno </em>, he remembered the school vaguely, though he remembered that firecracker orange-headed kid who jumped across the court like something out of a shonen manga. Then there was Kageyama Tobio, who he certainly remembered from training camps in high school. </p><p>“You were the manager,” Kiyoomi stated plainly. </p><p>“Oh,” Kiyoko startled, pulling back slightly. “Yes. I sometimes forget we didn’t really talk in high school.” </p><p>“Your team was good,” he recalled. “You beat Shiratorizawa and Inarizaki. Those were hard schools to beat.” </p><p>She smiled. “Thank you. Do you still talk to anyone from your school?” </p><p>Kiyoomi looked down awkwardly at his notes. He was never very good at keeping contact with people, friends or otherwise. “Not really,” he shrugged indifferently. It wasn’t like he was unaffected by it. He was human and he did enjoy social interactions, but in doses and with people he was comfortable with. It’s just that he wasn’t very comfortable with a lot of people. “My former captain, Iizuna-san. I still talk to him sometimes,” Kiyoomi finally responded. “And my cousin, Motoya. I’m not really good at --”</p><p>Kiyoko waved her hands. “Neither am I,” she reassured. “Usually it’s them contacting me to keep me updated. When I visit home, they yell at me for not being better at messaging back.” She had a soft blush coating her cheeks, and if Kiyoomi hadn’t had his Gay Awakening in high school, he would have likely been interested in Kiyoko in much more than a platonic way. </p><p>“Motoya is always texting me local gossip, but a lot of the time, I’m not even sure who he’s talking about.”</p><p>At that, Kiyoko perked up. “Do you know Ushiwaka?”<br/>Kiyoomi raised an eyebrow. “Yes.” Wataktoshi was 100% the reason for Kiyoomi’s Gay Awakening, but he learned pretty quickly he was only physically attracted to him and he was nowhere near experiencing the romantic attraction he felt with his first-year roommate at Itachiyama (which went nowhere very quickly considering how straight his roommate was -- and how obvious he made it). </p><p>“I heard he’s in California right now, but he’s being recruited by Japanese teams,” Kiyoko bristled with another wave of the hand. After a moment, she continued, “And he’s dating to his old teammate. That red-head?”</p><p>“Tendou-san,” Kiyoomi clarified thoughtfully. He always thought they had something going on between them -- Wakatoshi had a way of smiling at his phone the same way Kiyoko did whenever he received a text from him. “Interesting.” </p><p>Kiyoko hummed and ducked her head down to continue looking at her notes. Feeling the need to continue the conversation, Kiyoomi said, “I used to have a crush on him.”</p><p>“Tendou-san?” </p><p>“Wakatoshi,” Kiyoomi replied sheepishly. </p><p>Kiyoko grinned. “He was hot. But his manager was hotter.”</p><p>They spent the rest of the next hour before class stalking Wakatoshi and the former Shiratorizawa manager on social media with zero regrets the next day.</p><p>. . .</p><p>Becoming friends with Kiyoko was easy. She had no expectations from him and they were completely comfortable sitting in each others’ dorm rooms in silence with a bag of crisps between them as they went over flashcards and formulas for their statistics class. It was helpful that classes for their majors overlapped frequently because they spent the next two years mooching off of each others’ information and partnering up for projects to avoid the longstanding disappointment of shitty group members.</p><p>Their conversations moved from volleyball to crappy professors and campus gossip. The bag of crisps turned into bottles of alcohol. </p><p>
  <em> I heard Haru-san is sleeping with Sasaki-sensei. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That’s probably how she passed that last assignment. She was useless last semester. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bokuto-san and Akaashi-san are engaged.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Didn’t he get recruited by MSBY Black Jackals?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yeah, and Akaashi-san is still in university like us.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Don’t take Shibuya-san for business analytics. He’s shit at explaining anything.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Takagi-san acts like he has a big dick, but he doesn’t. Don’t take him seriously.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>More often than not, Kiyoomi fell asleep on Kiyoko’s lap with her hand running through his unruly curls as a shitty American rom-com played in the background, his sniffles heard above the quiet dialogue on the television.</p><p>“This is so dumb,” Kiyoko mumbled, tipping back a sip of tequila. “Just because a girl has a complete makeover, doesn’t make her a million times more attractive. If he didn’t like her the way she was, he’s trash.”</p><p>“Exactly,” Kiyoomi slurred. “Men are trash.” </p><p>Kiyoko snorted. “Says the guy who is going on his third date in the past two weeks. It’s a miracle you’re passing all your classes and still killing it in volleyball on top of having an active dating life - or sex life, whatever it is you’re doing.”</p><p>“I’m the ace,” he smirked uncharacteristically as he stood up, reaching over to grab the bottle and take another sip. “And what was I going to say, ‘no’ to free food? That’s like doing the world a disservice. If it’s a good date, it’s a win-win. If it’s a bad date --”</p><p>“Free food,” Kiyoko finished with a laugh. “How do you do it?”</p><p>“Do what?” </p><p>She shrugged. “Date.” </p><p>Kiyoomi looked at the raven-haired beauty in front of him. She looked flustered, blush high on her cheeks, as she shyly nursed the bottle of tequila in her hands. “It’s hard talking to people I don’t know,” she elaborated..</p><p>“You didn’t know me before.”</p><p>“You’re easy.”</p><p>“You’re calling me a slut?” Kiyoomi sputtered. </p><p>“No!” she exclaimed with a laugh, shoving him to the side. The alcohol swam in his brain as he let gravity take him to the bed. “You’re easy to be around. Why aren’t you straight?”</p><p>“Why aren’t you?”</p><p>“I just -” Kiyoko sighed, putting the nearly empty bottle on her desk before climbing into bed next to Kiyoomi. “I wish it were easy being confident and talking to people without feeling like an idiot.”</p><p>Kiyoomi blinked at her. “You - what?” Kiyoko gestured wildly with her hands as she tried to verbalize what she was thinking, despite no words coming out. “Ki-chan,” he groaned. “You scared me when I first met you.”</p><p>“I <em> scared </em> you? You scared me! We talked about you all the time in high school, and there you were, one of the top three aces in the nation sitting next to me in class. It was unreal. You seemed so untouchable.”</p><p>“But do you <em> see </em> the way you carry yourself? You’re intimidating and have that hot dominating thing going on.” Kiyoko continued to blush, and it wasn’t just from the alcohol at this point. “You clearly don’t see the eyes that are constantly staring at you when we walk down the hall. Your clothes are something out of a fashion runway.  And I’ll never admit this to Motoya, but he’s right.”</p><p>Kiyoko frowned. “What?”</p><p>“Being around you gave me a better fashion sense,” he replied.</p><p>“Are you being soft?” </p><p>“Shut up, I’m drunk,” he grumbled. “Stop taking advantage of me.” He turned in the bed so he was facing her, nuzzing his face into her thick sweater as she laughed loudly. </p><p>“I know it’s hard to see because you’re not looking,” Kiyoomi continued, “but listen to me when I say you’re a badass. And one day, you’ll realize that whatever anyone else thinks is bullshit. And that’s when you know you’ve made it.”</p><p>She did.</p><p> </p><p>III. </p><p>He was a second year when he met Yachi Hitoka. A week into the semester, Kiyoomi had been waiting for Kioyko at their usual coffee shop outside of campus when she strolled in looking like a model with a golden tan. Beside her was a tiny blond girl with her hair neatly pulled back by butterfly clips, but dressed just as fashionable as Kioyko standing next to her.</p><p>“Kiyo, this is Yachi Hitoka,” she introduced. Yachi’s brown eyes widened like a deer in headlights, cowering slightly behind Kiyoko as she looked down to where Kiyoomi was seated. Immediately sensing her discomfort, Kiyoomi removed his mask and gave her a short wave. </p><p>“Hello.”</p><p>“Yachi, this is Sakusa Kiyoomi.”</p><p>“Sakusa-san,” she squeaked. “Hi.” Kiyoomi couldn’t help but smile. If anything, it caused Yachi to squeal even louder and hide behind Kiyoko even more. </p><p>“Please, call me Kiyoomi,” he assured. Yachi nodded her head furiously, he was sure her head would snap from her neck at any second. “Sit.” </p><p>“I’m going to get drinks,” Kiyoko said, placing her hand behind Yachi and pushing her slightly toward the table. “She gets nervous easily. Don’t freak her out.”</p><p>“I’m not scary,” Kiyoomi frowned as Kiyoko sent him an eyeroll in response. After what felt like minutes, Yachi finally pulled up a chair next to Kiyoomi, her eyes focused on the table in front of her. “So how do you know Ki-chan?”</p><p>“Ki-chan? <em>Oh!</em> Kiyoko-senpai! Oh, don’t tell her I called her senpai.” Yachi’s cheeks reddened at every word she uttered, and Kiyoomi immediately felt the urge to protect her at all costs. “She was the third-year manager when I was a first year,” she finally sputtered. “I’m very lucky to have a familiar face around here.” </p><p>“You’re in very good hands,” Kiyoomi replied. </p><p>. . .</p><p>Kiyoomi learned very quickly just how nervous of a person Yachi was. She tended to overload herself with work, often pulling all-nighters and arriving to daily breakfast routine at the coffee shop with eye bags heavier than the bags on her shoulders. </p><p>“Are you coming to the game tonight?” Kiyoko asked. </p><p>“Game? <em> Oh </em>! Oh my goodness, sorry Kiyo! I totally forgot you had a game tonight. Ah, I was going to study for my design midterm and start on this marketing project I have due in a few weeks -- I don’t really trust my group partners because the last time, I ended up doing all the work and everyone was so flaky, and no one was responding to my texts and I almost had to hand it in last minute, but I got lucky I guess, and it worked out in the end, even though I received a B, it probably would’ve been better if --” </p><p>Kiyoomi and Kioyko shared a look as they took simultaneous sips from their drinks. Yachi continued to ramble about her classes and how stressed out she was until hands landed on both of her shoulders and forced her to stop. </p><p>“Oh - what happened? Did I miss something?” she rambled.</p><p>“Hitoka,” Kiyoko deadpanned. If Yachi’s eyes could get wider, they would. When Kioyko put her Tiger Mom voice on, she meant business and was not going to take no for an answer. “Tonight, you are coming over to the apartment. We are getting dressed in our best Team Kiyo gear. We are going to drink sake, and show up to Kiyo’s game buzzed enough to forget about those assignments in that pretty little head of yours.”</p><p>“And then we are going to go back to the apartment, drink more sake, and have a relaxing weekend,” Kiyoomi finished.</p><p>“I - but - wait, what?” Yachi frowned. “But don’t you wanna celebrate with your team?”</p><p>“No,” Kioyoko and Kiyoomi responded together. Yachi blinked at them both, almost in awe at their synchronicity. “You can say no, but we won’t let you,” Kiyoko continued. </p><p>“It’s important to take breaks,” Kiyoomi agreed. <em> It was like Kiyo-squared </em>. “What?”</p><p>“Kiyo-squared. I like that,” Kiyoko chuckled. </p><p>“Oh, God, I said that <em> out loud </em>?” </p><p>“Let’s go.”</p><p>. . .</p><p>Kiyoomi and Kiyoko began to live together during their second semester in his second (her third) year. As natural introverts, they typically kept to themselves but often gravitated towards the small living space when they craved attention or social interaction. Plus, Kiyoko was a brilliant cook and was constantly trying new recipes, and Kiyoomi agreed to clean 75% of the time. It was as symbiotic as their own relationship. </p><p>Yachi had been over so many times, it was a miracle she didn’t already live there (though she did have her own spare key at this point). She was usually found nestled between Kiyoomi and Kiyoko during their Friday pizza and romance movie nights. If Kiyoko or Kiyoomi had a date, Yachi was always over with a bottle of wine to stalk their dates on social media while they found an outfit to wear. More often than not, she waited up for either one or both of them under the guise of studying (“I focus better at your place! My roommate is an even bigger disaster than me, and honestly there’s only room for one disaster at a time!”) but really she was tipsy and yelling at the characters on the television -- especially if Kiyoomi had stayed home with her (he usually instigated the drinking). </p><p>“You’re freaking out,” Kiyoko scolded. “I thought I gave you enough sake to have you stop thinking so hard. Do we need more?”</p><p>“Yes,” Kiyoomi immediately stated. </p><p>Just as promised, Kiyoko and Yachi showed up to the volleyball game in Waseda black and red, sporting Kiyoomi’s jersey and numbers with paint on their cheeks. As soon as Kiyoomi hit the winning spike, the two girls were easy to spot in the large crowd despite being crowded by teammates patting him on the back. He focused on their laughter and smiles, ignoring the hard slaps of sweaty skin on his shirt and arms as they congratulated him on the final point. </p><p>Even with the mask covering his face, it was easy to see the scowl in his eyes as he navigated the locker room and hallways. </p><p>“Kiyo!” Kiyoko had called out in the crowd. He avoided the fangirls calling his name and made a beeline to the only girls he cared to be around. The anger in his eyes was quickly replaced with excitement as he approached them, quickly sending them high-fives before ushering themselves out of the gymnasium. </p><p>“I’m going to shower,” Kiyoko sighed, pulling her hair up. “Kiyo, make sure she doesn’t read her emails. She’s been dying to do it since she stepped foot in here, I can <em> feel </em> it.”</p><p>“No,” Yachi argued but her face said that Kiyoko was absolutely correct. She pouted as Kiyoomi grabbed her phone and chucked it into the side table drawer, before heading into the kitchen and grabbing the alcohol and glasses. </p><p>“Why are you stressed?” Kiyoomi asked right away. She frowned at his bluntness, but having gotten to know him the past few months, she had expected it anyway.</p><p>She shrugged, watching Kiyoomi pour the sake into the glasses. She sipped on the drink absently. “University is just <em> so </em> overwhelming. The first semester was okay. But then the second semester hit me like a truck. Yeah, some people like you and Kiyoko are so welcoming. But others are kind of… awful. I try <em> so </em> hard, and I just wonder, why don’t others do the same? I don’t want to fail my classes, so why don’t others put into the effort too?” At this point, she had finished her drink and was blindly pouring another one, filling Kiyoomi’s halfway as well. He could sense a ramble, but he knew better than to stop her at this point. </p><p>“And don’t get me started on the newspaper,” Yachi grumbled. “I just feel so responsible for it turning out good. Design is <em> so </em> important, and it’s what catches people’s eyes, right? So of course I’m going to step in and help edit the stuff and --”</p><p>“Yachi,” Kiyoomi sighed. “What’s your title on the paper?”</p><p>“Um, designer?” </p><p>“Is the word ‘editor’ anywhere in there?”</p><p>Yachi’s frown deepened as she took a large gulp. “Um. No.”</p><p>“Then editing is not your fucking job.”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“I don’t care,” Kiyoomi mumbled into his glass, waving his hand. Oh, he was talking with his <em> hands </em> now. “Stop doing their job. You shouldn’t take more responsibility than you need to.”</p><p>“I know, but -”</p><p>"Kiyo’s right,” Kiyoko perked up. “It’s one thing to force yourself to take on others’ responsibilities, but not when it takes a toll on your mental health. That’s not healthy.”</p><p>Finally, Yachi submitted and sighed. “You guys are right.” </p><p>The rest of the evening was spent watching crappy horror movies with Kiyoomi and Yachi drunkenly hiding behind pillows as they feasted on take-out (“I’m allowed to have take-out, I won the game today,” Kiyoomi had justified despite no one asking him to). </p><p>. . .</p><p>The following morning, Kiyoko had whipped them all up freshly steamed rice, homemade miso soup, and grilled fish, all satisfying for their three hungover stomachs (though it was unfair how <em> un </em>-hungover Kiyoko looked). </p><p>Yachi ran to her dorm room to pick up any homework and supplies she needed and spent the rest of the weekend at <em> Kiyo-squared </em>, as she now dubbed. She buried herself in books and snacks, provided by the ever generous Kiyo-squared. Every few hours, Kiyoomi would pop into the living room and force Yachi to take a break or go on a walk with him to the konbini down around the block.</p><p>Yachi only had two breakdowns that semester.</p><p> </p><p>IV.</p><p>During his last year of university, Kiyoomi moved in with his boyfriend of seven months. Kiyoko had warned him it seemed fast, but retracted her statement when she had no place to judge with her lack of romantic experience.</p><p>(“Dating is a romantic experience.”</p><p>"Not when they find out your bi and they either only want to see you with another woman, or they’re insecure because you’re interested in both genders.” </p><p>They had spent Kiyoko’s last year in university living their best lives while living vicariously through Hitoka’s first real romance with a first-year girl named Minami Aiko. Aiko had been bold enough to pursue Hitoka, who immediately panicked when she realized that rambling wasn’t exactly “sexy,” and immediately went to her best friends for advice. </p><p>(“Kiyoko doesn’t know how to be in a relationship,” Kiyoomi had replied with a wave of a hand.</p><p>“Kiyoomi only knows how to sleep with men, so…”</p><p>Aiko continued to pursue Hitoka despite her hesitance, and in a year, Hitoka learned that just because you think it’s your flaw, doesn’t mean others see them that way either. Kiyoomi and Kiyoko admired their blooming romance from afar). </p><p>Tatsuo was kind, generous, and didn’t mind Kiyoomi’s idiosyncrasies towards cleanliness. He was respectful of his boundaries, but something about him made Kiyoomi think he was just… <em> too nice </em>. </p><p>“So what’s wrong with that?” Hitoka asked. The three of them were on a video chat while Tatsuo was at work. </p><p>“He’s…” Kiyoomi had trailed off. It was certainly the longest relationship he had ever been in, possibly the only <em> real </em> relationship he had ever been in.  He was everything he could ask for in a relationship, but it was also like expecting the bare minimum.</p><p>“I think Kiyo is trying to say that he wants someone a little more… <em> dominating </em>?” Kiyoko smirked. </p><p>“Ah, Ki-chan!” Hitoka exclaimed, and even from the small screen of his phone, Kiyoomi could tell she was blushing. </p><p>Kiyoko chuckled, “Did you know he called me hot and dominating the first time we got drunk together?”</p><p>“This isn’t Clown Kiyoomi Hours,” he scowled, leaning further into the couch and pulling the throw blanket around his shoulders. Finally, he sighed. “He’s very kind and polite. It’s wonderful, but I feel like.. We may be lacking that… <em> extra </em> stuff we had in the beginning.”</p><p>“You mean the insatiable sex?” Kiyoko continued over Hitoka’s quiet, “Oh my God.” “Toka, don’t act like you don’t get all crazy with Aiko-chan.”</p><p>Hitoka’s jaw dropped as she sputtered, “I - uh, I mean - yeah, but - I -”</p><p>“You broke her, Ki,” Kiyoomi murmured before letting out a dramatic sigh. <em> How do I break up with him? I just moved in with him. What was I thinking? I’m 22. I don’t know what commitment is. Not that commitment is wrong. Not everyone was born as bright and deserving of true love as Yachi Hitoka.  </em></p><p>“I think you broke yourself,” Kiyoko replied. “I can see you thinking from here. Figure your shit out. I have to go --” </p><p>“No, no,” Kiyoomi called. “Where are <em> you </em> going? It’s a Thursday afternoon.” </p><p>Kiyoko opened her mouth and then pursed her lips into a thin line. She looked away from the camera, but a dust of pink coated her cheeks. </p><p>“<em> Oh </em>,” Hitoka gasped. “You have a date. With who!”</p><p>She frowned. “It’s not a date. We are catching up.”</p><p>“With <em> who </em>?” Hitoka and Kiyoomi exclaimed. </p><p>“Tanaka,” Kiyoko muttered quietly, but they had already caught the smile on her lips as she turned away again.</p><p>“<em> Tanaka-senpai </em>?” </p><p>“He’ll get a kick out of you calling him<em> senpai </em>,” Kiyoko giggled. “Yes. We are grabbing coffee and going to the gardens, and perhaps going to -”</p><p>“The <em> gardens </em> ,” Kiyoomi repeated, exasperatingly. “It <em> is </em> a date. You liar.” </p><p>“This is… unexpected,” Hitoka thought. “You’re so poised and he’s so…” </p><p>“I hope he’s more dominating than Tatsuo.”</p><p>“<em> Kiyoomi </em>,” Hitoka scolded. “You need to break up with him. It’s not fair to him.”</p><p>“I know,” Kiyoomi grumbled, hoping to turn the conversation back to Kiyoko while he stewed on his own thoughts. “Tell us more about this Tanaka.”</p><p>“He’s toned down a lot,” Kiyoko replied. “We’ve messaged here and there since I  graduated, but I think he’s really matured since high school and -- <em>why are you laughing, Kiyo</em>?”</p><p>“I’m not laughing,” Kiyoomi justified. “I just - I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look like that when talking about a person you’re about to go on a date with.”  Kiyoko raised an eyebrow. “You look…”</p><p>“Happy,” Hitoka perked up. </p><p>Kiyoomi ignored her, “Like you aren’t absolutely dreading it,” he snorted. Kiyoko scowled at him. “You used to look so miserable before your dates. It was almost like you couldn’t decide on an outfit because you were stalling.”</p><p>“No, it’s because we’re friends,” Kiyoko answered. “He’s coming down the block.” </p><p>. . .</p><p>The topic was put to rest for the next two months. Hitoka and Aiko were still happily in love (with only one school-related breakdown their last semester). Kiyoomi broke up with Tatsuo, who had been so diplomatic about it (he had offered to move out by the weekend) Kiyoomi could not even tell if they had even been in a relationship at all. And Kiyoko had called them up on a Friday night at nearly one in the morning. </p><p>“Are you pulling another all-nighter?” Kiyoomi asked Hitoka, who was clearly at her desk and wide awake, a mug in her hand. She nodded slowly, glancing at the papers on her desk before muttering something about finishing the newspaper design before Monday but wanting her weekends free. “Please make sure you drink water before bed. I’m texting Aiko to make you a nice breakfast in the morning.”</p><p>In the other small square, Kiyoko had settled the phone on her kitchen counter. Kiyoko herself was grabbing a glass from the top cabinet and a bottle of sake from the fridge. She sat down at the counter and poured herself a hefty glass before taking a long swig. </p><p>“Oh. So it’s <em> that </em>kind of night,” Kiyoomi muttered. “I’d join you, but I have afternoon practice.” </p><p>Kiyoko let out a long sigh. “I’m so sorry,” she groaned, putting her head in her hands. “I have… a problem.” She quickly downed her glass and poured herself another one before proceeding. “I think… I may have feelings. Romantic ones. For Ryu.”</p><p>“<em> Ryu </em>,” Hitoka perked up with wonder. </p><p>“He’s very funny and sweet,” Kiyoko continued. “I really enjoy spending time with him. But I don’t know how to be in a relationship. And what if he gets bored? I could be boring. He could get bored of me. Also he doesn’t know I’m bi, and I’m not quite sure how to bring that up or how he’ll react to it?” </p><p>“You’re amazing, Kiyoko!” Hitoko reassured. “He’s been practically in love with you in high school. And Tanaka-san has always been very positive.” </p><p>“We’re not in high school anymore, ‘Toka,” she sighed again. </p><p>“From what you’ve mentioned, you could share a wildly accurate description of a beetle and he would be so captivated and ask for your hand in marriage afterward anyway,” Kiyoomi replied while Hitoka nodded eagerly. “Seriously, though, if he’s insecure or being misogynist about you being interested in other genders or sexualities, that’s how you know he’s not <em> it </em>.”</p><p>“You make it sound so simple.” </p><p>Kiyoomi shrugged. “Because it is. If someone doesn’t treat you the way you deserve, that’s not fair.” He took the moment to silently and fondly think of Tatsuo. He truly was a wonderful person, but he certainly did not deserve to be strung along just because he was kind. He deserved better than that, and Kiyoomi was aware. </p><p>“If he does give you a problem, I would like to have a conversation with him.” Hitoka squealed on her end. “Hitoka and Aiko came over a few weeks ago, and we’ve done our research. I would like to meet him.”</p><p>Kiyoko narrowed her eyes at her phone. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” she smiled.</p><p>As it turns out, Tanaka was, indeed, positive and respectful, and Kiyoko was as bright and deserving of love as Hitoka was. When Kiyoomi met him a month later, Tanaka appeared so starstruck at Kiyoomi’s presence, but it was nothing compared to the way he looked at Kiyoko.</p><p> </p><p>V. </p><p>Kiyoomi moved to Osaka after he graduated from university. He had been recruited by a handful of teams and after a very resourceful (read: drunk) night in, full of takeaway (read: also tequila and sake) in which he went over the pros and cons of the various offers he received with Hitoka (and Kiyoko, participating virtually with her own bottle and a homemade meal in front of her), Kiyoomi decided to make a new home with the MSBY Black Jackals. </p><p>“<em> Omi-omi </em>!” a sing-song voice called to him from across the locker room. It was no guess who was calling out to him. Although they were the last two in the locker room, only he had the audacity to call him such a ridiculous nickname. “Oh, Omi-kun!” </p><p>Kiyoomi growled. He had not taken into account of a certain Miya Atsumu when he was considering his pros and cons. </p><p>He had met Miya a few times throughout his high school career, during training camps and national tournaments. He would be lying if he hadn’t kept up with his stats between practices and games. But based on the little interaction he had experienced growing up, Kiyoomi had hoped that Miya’s ego shrunk enough to leave him some room to breathe.</p><p>Clearly, he did not. </p><p>“Miya,” Kiyoomi greeted as he pulled his shirt over his head..</p><p>“Watcha doin this weekend?” Miya asked as he approached the curly-haired rookie. “Bokkun’s havin’ a party. Ya gonna be there?” </p><p>Kiyoomi nodded as he sat on the bench, pulling on his socks. “I am. I was also invited.”</p><p>“Fun,” Miya grinned as Kiyoomi’s phone buzzed.  He reached over to his locker and rolled his eyes at the caller ID. “I’ll see ya this weekend!” </p><p>“Hm,” he hummed as he picked up the phone. “Motoya.”</p><p>“Are out of practice yet?” </p><p>Kiyoomi quickly packed up his belongings and headed out of the practice facility, pulling his jacket tight around his body. Winter was approaching quickly and while the sun showed no indication of the biting cold, Kiyoomi could swear his nose was pink from the chill, even under his mask and scarf.</p><p>“Yes. How are you?” Motoya let out a muffled scream. “Ah, that well. Glad to hear it. Did you know Bokuto is proposing to Akaashi tomorrow?”</p><p>"I thought they were already engaged?"</p><p>"Promise rings, engagement. Apparently they're different."</p><p>“What the hell, <em>e</em><em>veryone is gay </em>,” Motoya finally exclaimed. </p><p>“Ah.” A pause. “Well then. Yes. I think a lot of our colleagues are… of the… not-hetero variety.” </p><p>“I think <em> I’m </em>gay.” </p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>This was shocking. Kiyoomi thought of all the girls Motoya had snuck out to see during high school, and all the girls he snuck in.  By all accounts, Kiyoomi had thought Motoya was one of the straightest men (and volleyball players) he had encountered in his entire life. Motoya talked a lot about butts and tits and tiny waists and pretty eyes and girls who had nice eyebrows and fashion or whatever. Had Motoya ever been in a committed relationship? Maybe in high school. Definitely not recently, unless Motoya had been holding out.</p><p>“Can you <em> please </em> say something other than ‘oh,’ I’m begging you, Kiyoomi.” He had to admit, he sounded a little hysterical. </p><p>He dressed rather masculine, and Motoya had always had better fashion sense than he did. Kiyoomi himself hadn’t learned how to properly dress himself in anything other than baggy clothing until he met Kiyoko, and even then it was like he only learned to dress himself because of her. But that didn’t necessarily dictate one’s sexual identity.</p><p>“Sorry, I’m just… processing.” </p><p>“Processing what? How did you know you were gay?”</p><p>“Uh,” Kiyoomi paused, his cheeks reddening, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the conversation or the cold anymore. He was a block away from the dorms. Maybe he can stall before divulging back into the deep recesses of his high school fantasies.  “Why?”</p><p>Motoya sighed. He sounded like he was rolling around in his bed, his head buried beneath pillows and itching to pull his hair out. Kiyoomi could tell because he’s witnessed it a handful of times while dorming with him during of second and third year. </p><p>The building approached his sight, and Kiyoomi made quick work to jump into its warmth, hopping up the steps to his room.  He toed off his shoes in the genkan and made sure to put his belongings neatly away before shuffling into the bathroom to wash his hands, all while keeping Motoya on speaker. </p><p>“Jesus, Kiyoomi, I don’t know if <em> I’m </em> gay,” he groaned. “How the fuck am I supposed to know I might enjoy dick?”</p><p>“I mean… Have you tried it?” Kiyoomi smirked as he dried his hands with a towel. </p><p>“Tried what?”</p><p>“Dick.”</p><p>“<em> You’re </em> a dick, you know that?” Motoya mumbled, letting another muffled scream escape. </p><p>Kiyoomi let out a small chuckle. “Guys in high school talked a lot about women’s breasts,” Kiyoomi shrugged, even though Motoya couldn’t see it. “I didn’t understand it. Guys’ chests were more attractive to me.” </p><p>“You mean Ushiwaka’s chest,” Motoya chuckled. </p><p>“Who do you think you’re gay for?” he cut in, and Motoya stopped laughing. “Is it a teammate?” A sharp inhale on the other line told him everything he needed to know. “Ah. Washio-san? I think he knows Bokuto from high school. I could put in a good word.”</p><p>“Stop fucking around, Kiyo.”</p><p>“So not Washio. Okay,” Kiyoomi continued. “Suna?” This time, silence. “<em> Oh </em>. I mean. Suna is pretty.”</p><p>Another groan. “He’s <em> so </em> pretty. He has nice eyes. Did you know he wears <em> eyeliner </em> sometimes?” Komori’s word-vomit was unstoppable and Kiyoomi could only listen to him go on about how his eyes are a yellow-ish hue under the gymnasium lights but they turn a tint greener when he laughs, and speaking of his beautiful laugh --</p><p>“He laughs? As in, he has an expression other than the blank one he always has?”</p><p>“People think the same about you,” Motoya mumbled. Finally, “Am I gay?”</p><p>“Motoya,” Kiyoomi finally began. “You can be whatever the fuck you want to be. Why must you limit it to labels? I understand that it’s nice to put a name to something, but as long as you’re comfortable with yourself, that’s all that matters. Are you comfortable with yourself?”</p><p>He heard some rustling in the background, and he could picture Motoya sitting up in his bed. “I think I could be. Once I figure this out.”</p><p>“Okay, so instead of figuring out whether you’re interested in men or not, why don’t you figure out if you’re interested in <em> Suna </em>.”</p><p>“I’m interested,” came the immediate reply. “As in, I would like to hang out with just him in a more-than-platonic way, I think.”</p><p>“So ask him out.” </p><p>And he did. </p><p>Turns out, it didn’t matter whether or not Motoya was interested in men, women, whatever. Because now he was dating Suna, and quite frankly, that was all that mattered.</p><p> </p><p>+1</p><p>Kiyoomi was halfway through his first season with MSBY Black Jackals when MIya went from a con to a pro. It was a few months later that Miya turned into Atsumu, and sometimes Tsumu. He didn’t know how it happened, but it did (somewhere between the <em> Lemme set for ya Omi-omi’s </em> and <em> Shut the fuck up, Miya </em>’s) and Kiyoomi was happy. Maybe he was bright and deserving of love, too. </p><p>Love was a concept Kiyoomi paid little mind to. It was there, it was nice. He never explicitly <em> fell in love </em> <em>with</em> someone. But he knew what it was like to feel love <em> for </em> others, like his cousin or his friends. Even a familial love for his teammates. But he never felt like he <em> needed </em> it to survive. It was like a small bonus in life. To fall in love, and to be fallin in love with. </p><p>He was coming very close to falling in love with Miya Atsumu. </p><p>Their banter on the court served as foreplay for the bedroom, heat turning into passion, and subtle grazes of the arm turned into soft touches and kisses on backs and necks. If love was constant fire and electricity turned warmth and comfort, that was exactly how Kiyoomi felt for Atsumu. </p><p>They were never obvious about their relationship, not wanting to affect the team dynamic. Especially since Kiyoomi was only a year under the team’s wing, he still felt like he had more to prove. They didn’t mind the speculation, either, often playing games that only he and Atsumu knew about. <em> Who would catch on, first? </em>They were merely friends who spent an awful lot of time together. </p><p>. . .</p><p>It had happened on a Friday night. They won against EJP Raijin, yet another excuse to gloat to Komori and Suna, and a majority of both teams were celebrating at a lounge downtown while the team was still in Osaka. </p><p>Kiyoomi had a few drinks in him, coaxed into him by Komori, and then Bokuto and Hinata. </p><p>(“What happened to College Boy Kiyoomi?” Komori had laughed, remembering all the times he had called Kiyoomi during a movie night only to find him drunkenly sprawled on Kiyoko’s bed -- and the one time he visited Kiyoomi and Kiyoko at their apartment only to be roped into Drunk Harry Potter, which left Komori blacking out halfway through <em> Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets </em>.</p><p>“College Boy Kiyoomi? What!” Bokuto gawked in disbelief. “No way. Kiyoomi doesn’t drink like that!” And he didn’t, at least not with his team. While he loved them all -- though he would never admit that out loud -- he simply wasn’t comfortable enough to let <em> all </em> of his guards down in front of them. Not yet, at least.  He very much preferred to go back to his dorm and curl up with a new book or manga.</p><p>Hinata jumped in his seat. “Yeah! Kiyoko-san and Yacchan told me a lot of fun stories about you, Sakusa-san!” The mention of his two best friends had brought gentle memories rushing back in the midst of his drunken haze, and he subconsciously shot them a text begging them to stop telling Hinata drunk stories about him because he doesn’t want to drink anymore.</p><p>They both text Hinata, Boktuo, and Komori to give him enough drinks to loosen up because “he deserves it.”)</p><p>Several shots in and Kiyoomi was desperate to use the bathroom. He had a natural aversion to public restrooms, but he was desperate and he was drunk. </p><p>The door was labeled <em> Men’s </em>, so he knew he walked into the right room. Except the right room was the wrong room, and his boyfriend was balls deep inside of a tall brunette girl with a small waist, who had the nerve to thrust back while looking Kiyoomi in the eyes.</p><p><em> I’m drunk. This isn’t happening. I’m drunk </em>.</p><p>After what felt like an eternity, “Omi-” Both men were frozen to the spot despite the woman’s continued attempts to proceed.</p><p>“I’m drunk,” he finally muttered, backing away from the door, but not before he heard the girl mumble, “I thought you said you locked it.”</p><p>
  <em> So drunk. </em>
</p><p>His chest tightened, the image of Atsumu under the crappy bathroom light, leaning over this stranger who clearly had no idea he was in a relationship seared into his mind. <em> But Atsumu knows. Atsumu is - was? Your boyfriend. Boyfriend? </em> Kiyoomi’s head hurt and his heart ached as he stumbled outside of the building and hurled the evening’s contents against the brick wall.</p><p>“Kiyo, you okay?” </p><p>Kiyoomi wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then rubbed his hands against the back of his jeans. He didn’t care anymore. When he looked up, the Motoya’s blurry image cleared -- then disappeared -- and came back again, this time with a bottle of water. </p><p>“Guess it <em>has</em> been a while, huh?” Motoya joked. “Hey, wait. Are you crying? Are you okay? What happened?”</p><p>Kiyoomi shook his head. He hadn’t even realized he was crying. Everything felt tight and painful, and he just wanted to lay down and sleep for a while. But the alcohol was sitting in his stomach, and the image from the bathroom burned at the forefront of his mind. No matter how badly he wanted to close his eyes, he couldn’t. </p><p>“Tsumu,” he murmured, struggling to uncap the bottle. He chugged as much as he could without wanting to throw up again, and when he thrust the nearly empty bottle back into Motoya’s hands, he was looking at him with the angriest expression he had seen in a while. </p><p>Motoya was one of the few people who knew about his and Atsumu’s relationship. Naturally, he mentioned in passing that they had started dating. And naturally, Motoya already knew because Atsumu tells his twin everything, and his twin is best friends with Suna, who -- despite his perpetually stoic facade -- was one of the biggest gossips in the V.League.  And now, it looked like Motoya wanted to march back into the lounge and toss Atsumu across the street, or maybe against the wall where Kiyoomi’s vomit was currently resting. </p><p>“Let’s go home.”</p><p>. . .</p><p>When Kiyoomi woke up, he found that he didn’t need to say anything, which he was glad for because the pounding in his head and behind his eyes refused to make way for any other thoughts besides “Last night was fucked up,” and “Miya fucking Atsumu.” </p><p>Kiyoomi sat up and found a flurry of messages and missed calls from his phone, a majority from Miya. A few texts came from his group chat with Hitoka and Kiyoko.  Beside his phone was a glass of water and some aspirin for his headache. Moving his blanket, Kiyoomi was glad to at least find himself in his pajamas, and his hair was damp which told him he at least took a shower before he went to bed. </p><p>The last he remembered was Motoya shoving him through the genkan as he stumbled into the wall. </p><p>“I am going to kill Miya,” Motoya muttered. Kiyoomi looked up, his mind still cloudy from the hangover and the leftover alcohol that he was convinced was still in his system. Maybe if he convinced himself he was still drunk, he can’t be held accountable for what he might do. “Suna is going to kill him. I think Osamu already ripped him a new one.”</p><p>Apparently, Kiyoomi had drunkenly video called HItoka and Kiyoko during the cab ride home (something that clearly escaped his memory) and proceeded to tell them and Motoya just about everything that had happened. And while Hitoka had reacted appropriately appalled, Kiyoko’s Tiger Mom instincts had awakened Ryu from his slumber and had forced him to hold her back from hopping on the next train to Osaka to beat the daylights out of Miya.</p><p>“I’m going back to sleep.”</p><p>Motoya huffed from the door. He could hear his soft footsteps on the wooden floors as he approached Kiyoomi’s bed. He felt a gentle poke to his curls. </p><p>“You’re going to have to get up eventually.”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure he knows I’m done with him,” Kiyoomi mumbled, pulling the blankets over him. “Is it too late to transfer teams? Can I join your team instead? Maybe they can swap me with Yoneda-san. I’m a better outside hitter than he is, anyway.”</p><p>“Don’t be an idiot,” Motoya laughed. “You always see things through to the end.”  He was right, and Kiyoomi hated that he was right. “Listen. I’ll tell Meian-san that you’ve come down with something and need a few days off. Clear your head, okay?” </p><p>“Hmph.” </p><p>“If I don’t hear from you in 24 hours, I’ll be back at your door sick with the same thing.” </p><p>. . .</p><p>Despite all his effort in avoiding Miya, it was impossible. They lived in the same building, and he followed Kiyoomi like a lost puppy, begging for forgiveness when no one else was in sight. On the court, Miya sent him tosses and Kiyoomi put as much energy as he could into his spikes, imagining Miya’s face on the volleyball. </p><p>“Jeez, Omi,” Miya had tried the first time it happened. Kiyoomi turned away and waited for the next one. </p><p>But it wasn’t like they weren’t synced. Besides the fact that they merely no longer appeared to be friends who hung out outside of practice, they appeared more in tune than ever, and that made Kiyoomi angrier. He wanted Miya to fuck up somehow, so everyone would feel the disappointment and hurt that he was constantly feeling. But that would be selfish, and Kiyoomi sees things through to the end. </p><p>So three weeks after The Incident, as he calls it, Kiyoomi corners Miya in the hallway of their shared building and asks him. </p><p>“Why did you do it?”</p><p>Miya opened his mouth, surprised that Kiyoomi had even approached him at this point. When he appeared to gather his bearings, Miya responded. “I was selfish.” </p><p>“That’s it.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Miya shrugged. He looked down, his brows furrowed with frustration. “I loved ya. I still do. But I wanted more, too.” He sighed, glancing up again. “I wanted ta keep messin’ around with other people, but I wanted ya ta myself too. I was bein’ greedy. ‘Samu says I have a superiority complex, or whatever. I dunno. But I’m sorry because I know I fucked up. And I’m serious when I say I still love ya. And I know ya prob’ly won’t forgive me, but I hope one day ya will.” </p><p>Kiyoomi stared at him for a few moments longer, searching for any kind of insincerity on his features, but he couldn’t find any. Miya was being honest -- <em> for once </em>. And for some reason, it broke Kiyoomi even more.</p><p>He turned around and started towards his own room when Miya called him back. Kiyoomi paused but refused to face him.</p><p>“Omi. I jus’ wanna let ya know that I don’t think I could ever stop lovin’ ya. And I’m sorry I fucked it up for both of us.” </p><p>When Kiyoomi locked the door to his room, he cried for the first time in three weeks. </p><p>. . .</p><p>Three solid knocks came at the door. They had just won against the Green Rockets, and Kiyoomi knew a majority of his team had decided to grab drinks to celebrate. Kiyoomi politely declined, and made his way back to the dorm post-shower. He was hoping to relax in the comfort of his own bed reading the newest release from Akaashi’s mangaka, but the persistent knocking forced him out of his sheets and into the genkan, opening the door to Hitoka and Kiyoko decked in MSBY colors. </p><p>“We weren’t allowed to pick just one,” Hitoka smiled, pointing to the painted 21 and 15 on her cheeks. “Oh!” Kiyoomi tackled both girls into a massive hug, a feeling he hadn’t realized he was craving in a very long time. He let himself sink into their embraces, sloppily pulling them further into the room. </p><p>“You were at the game,” he realized. “I’ve missed you guys.”</p><p>Kiyoko tilted her head. “Motoya said you haven’t text him in a while. And Hinata said you weren’t going out to celebrate.”</p><p>“We wanted to make sure you were okay,” Hitoka replied. “You know. With everything. Ah - I mean, we don’t mean to overstep-”</p><p>“We do mean to overstep,” Kiyoko interrupted, pulling her shoes off and stepping into the bathroom to wash her hands with Hitoka rushing hurriedly behind her. Kiyoomi slowly followed, leaning against the door to the bathroom and watching them from the mirror’s reflection. “You need to do laundry. Maybe dust a little.”</p><p>Kiyoomi scowled. “I haven’t had the time.”</p><p>“You have plenty of time to get into your pajamas.” </p><p>“I lied. I don’t miss you guys. You can leave.”</p><p>“<em> Kiyo </em>!” Hitoka pouted, as she dried off her hands. “You know there’s such a thing as taking too many breaks.”</p><p>They made themselves at home, pulling bags onto the kotatsu. Kiyoomi hadn’t even realized they brought anything with them, and now they were pulling out takeaway boxes and alcohol. The image replaced the bitter one that had made a home in his head, reminding him of the simple weekends he spent with Hitoka and Kiyoko under the covers and complaining about dumb movie characters falling in love with the wrong person while drunkenly pointing out what they would do instead and --</p><p>“You’re thinking too hard,” Kiyoko scolded, like she always did whenever his brows furrowed together. She patted the seat beside her as Hitoka brought plates in from the shared kitchen. </p><p>Kiyoko put on his favorite film and they ate and laughed and downed almost an entire bottle of sake before she spoke up again. And while Kiyoomi knew it was coming, it still stung to think about. </p><p>“It’s not your fault, you know. You can dwell on it all you want, wonder what you did wrong. You didn’t do anything. And it’s okay to be mad about it.” </p><p>“I -” Kiyoomi swallowed hard, averting his gaze from the two girls as he focused on the texture of the tatami mat beneath his hands. “I know. I just don’t want to accept it. It makes it harder knowing he still loves me.” </p><p>“And you still love him, and that’s okay, too,” Hitoka reassured. “Having feelings about it doesn’t make you weak.” </p><p>For the first time in weeks, even in his drunken stupor, Kiyoomi felt a calm wave of confidence wash over him. If he learned to accept these feelings -- the way he felt and feels about Miya, all the good and the bad, the conflicting emotions raging a war within him whenever he saw him -- maybe one day he will learn to forgive him. </p><p>Like love, forever was a concept that Kiyoomi paid little mind to. It was there. The idea was nice, having a <em> forever </em> with someone. But if forever felt like this, cuddled between your best friends under kotatsu blankets while a shitty movie played as they passed a bottle or two of sake and tequila, he could learn to accept <em> this </em> kind of forever, too.</p>
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